When You Wake Up
by perspicuity
Summary: Lissa immediately turned away. She hated, hated, hated death and killing and war and fighting and injuries. Injuries. Her gaze fell to the boy in the grass behind her. She gasped when she saw the extent of the wound.


The rain fell heavily on the battlefield.

Armored horses, wyverns, soldiers rushed past. Mud coated boots and shields, masking splatters of blood. The field was flooding, but the battle waged on.

The axe in Lissa's hands felt heavier with each passing moment. The only thing weightier was her heart.

Lissa glared at the swordsman in front of her, her stance unwavering. She was at the disadvantage, but there was too much riding on her now. Her eyes shot to the figure lying beneath her.

The swordsman noticed the lapse in concentration and rushed forward. Lissa parried the blow and forced her weight forward, with the enemy's sword still lodged in the axe handle. She pulled away when the swordsman fell back.

Lissa's white knuckles gripped the handle as she pulled her arms above her head. She yelled. The axe fell in a swooping arc against the enemy's shoulder. Their wide eyes bore into Lissa as they collapsed into a sputtering mess on the ground.

Lissa immediately turned away. She hated, hated, hated death and killing and war and fighting and injuries.

Injuries.

Her gaze fell to the boy in the grass behind her. A dark, brown stain spread across his chest, soaking the clothes not already drenched by the rain. Red mixed with the puddles beneath him. Blood was smeared across his smiling face.

Lissa fell to her knees beside him, glancing from his body to the field around them. Then she pulled her healing staff from the sling on her back, cursing herself when she noticed the crack running down the center of the rod.

Henry registered her voice and rolled his head to face her. He opened his mouth to speak, but a deep cough shook his body in the place of words.

Lissa frantically dug through her bag, then Henry's bag, then the fallen swordsman's. No elixirs, no vulneraries, no tinctures. The broken staff was the only thing she had.

She felt like crying or punching something or both. This was unfair.

They were ambushed. The convoy was packed, with the goal of crossing into the foothills by evening. The majority of the army was already armed and armored, but even then it was only the bare minimum. The scouts hadn't seen anything the day before or that night; that's why nobody expected this. Maybe the low visibility from the storm was at fault. Or maybe the return of none of the scouts that morning was at fault.

The enemy poured into the valley from all sides, stranding the Shepherds in the middle of the flooded plain.

Robin ordered everyone able to fight and to defend the convoy at all costs. Band together or find your usual partners, she said. And then she ran off, tome in hand. That was it. Their army splintered off, some staying close, others running into the heat of battle.

Others like Lissa and Henry.

Lissa clutched the healing staff in shaking hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and recited a spell through clenched teeth. The staff glowed a brilliant white, momentarily lighting their surroundings and reflecting off the raindrops. Heat enveloped the area and raced down the broken rod, scorching Lissa's hands before causing Henry to cry out.

Lissa winced and dropped the staff. Forcing through the pain, she focused instead on pulling the stained robes from Henry's writhing body. She ripped the sweater from his chest and inhaled sharply at the extent of the wound. Her preliminary spell had done nothing to stem the blood loss.

Henry's eyes shot open as the cool rain fell into the open stab wound. Lissa held her breath and pressed the torn fabric against his chest. A sound between a cry and laugh escaped his lips.

Lissa's heart sank. The more he vocalized actual pain over enjoyment, the more dire the situation.

She blinked away tears and, while still applying pressure to the gash, reached for the staff again. Frantically, she rattled off spell after spell; the rod glowed then dimmed each time, burning her hand further and further with each word. Henry ripped the grass beneath him and dug his fingers into the mud.

Lissa was screaming now. Her throat ached, her mouth was dry, her lungs hurt. Nothing was working, and the crack in the staff grew deeper and larger.

And then the staff split in two.

A wave of heat followed, searing her cheeks. She cried out. That was it. She had nothing else, nothing that could heal Henry. She couldn't find another healer; Maribelle had stayed near the convoy, while Libra had ran in the opposite direction. Leaving Henry alone to find either of them guaranteed his…his…

Lissa furrowed her eyebrows and put the entirety of her weight into applying pressure to his wound. She couldn't think about that. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let that happen.

The smile had long since fallen from Henry's face. Something else replaced it, something Lissa had never seen before. His eyes were glazed over and his eyelids heavy. He searched Lissa's face before trailing down her arms until he could no longer see.

Henry lifted his hands and placed them around Lissa's wrists, his grip weak and faltering. Lissa looked him in the eye, worry flashing across her face. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a pained attempt at a smile as he pulled on her wrists.

Lissa's mouth fell open in protest. No, no, no, he wouldn't try to do this. He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't do this to himself; he wouldn't do this to her.

"Stop," she managed to whisper. Her voice was hoarse from yelling and barely audible above the distant clangs of metal.

Henry froze, his grip slackening. He looked up at her and was shocked by the intensity of her glare.

"Stop, Henry," Lissa started. "You have to let me help you."

He smiled in response but continued to push her away. His attempts were in vain; he was far too weak to combat Lissa's determination.

The rain fell harder, soaking Lissa's dress. Her hair clung limply to her face and obscured her view. Henry shut his eyes and let his head fall to the side.

"No, silly," Henry finally managed to wheeze. Lissa eyes shot to his face.

"What?"

"You stop, Lissa." He pushed her body away rather than her hands. "Let me help you instead."

"What are you saying?" She knew the answer already.

"Get back to the convoy." Henry wiped the water from his face, smearing more blood. Lissa shook her head. "C'mon, Lissa."

"Shut up."

"Look at me! Haha! I'm hopeless!" A wide grin spread across his face. Lissa pressed harder on the wound, causing him to stifle a cry.

"Shut up!"

"Save yourself and let ol' Henry rest in peace," he choked out.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Lissa's voice cracked, and the tears began to flow. Henry's smile faltered.

The two went silent, allowing the rain to muffle their cries. A crackle of thunder echoed throughout the valley, and lightning danced across the sky.

"I'm not going to leave you alone," Lissa said. "I'm not going to leave you to..."

"Die?" Henry attempted to laugh.

"Of course I'm not going to let you die!"

Lissa removed her right hand from Henry's chest and brushed the matted hair from his face. He could only stare at her, his mouth slightly agape. The tears threatened to waterfall down Lissa's face, but she had to compose herself.

Henry grasped Lissa's hand and held it against his cheek. He could feel her trembling or shivering or both, and he wanted to help her somehow. But he couldn't. Moving his hand was all he could manage.

"Go back, Lissa." Pause. "Before those jerks realize you aren't dead."

"Before they realize that _we_ aren't dead! Stop talking like that, Henry. Please, please, stop." She couldn't do it anymore. Her tears rolled down her face, where they mixed with the rain and showered the open wound. Sobs wrecked her body.

Henry reached for her face, but she pushed his hand away instead. She focused her attention back to pressing on his chest.

"Or is this what you always wanted? To die drenched in blood and rain and mud?" Lissa spat. "Why do you want to die?" The last question was barely above a whisper. She thought back to the long, restless nights, when the two of them would exchange stories about life before the war. Henry rarely talked about the time before a few years prior, and Lissa did her best not to pry. But, now, she wished she had.

He remained silent. The rise and fall of his chest was erratic, his breathing labored. Lissa went against all of her previous training and refused to check his pulse. She'd rather not know.

"Isn't it amazing, though?" he whispered. "I didn't imagine it would be this painful, but it's nice."

"Cut it out, already! Don't you understand that you really are going to die?!"

"Yes."

"Then-"

"Better me than you." Lissa let him wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I don't know what I woulda done if he got you instead."

"He was…gods, Henry. Why do you have to be so selfish? Why did you step in front of…"

Henry pulled Lissa's arms away from his chest. She went limp. She wasn't going to let him do this; she wasn't going to let him die right there. But her body refused to respond.

"Lissa…"

"Hush, Henry." She shifted her legs and leaned closer to his face, sinking deeper into the mud as she did so. Her lips trembled as she searched for something to say, but Henry shook his head.

A vein of lightning bolted across the sky, momentarily lighting their faces. Lissa thought she heard voices.

"Say, Lissa," he started. Lissa didn't stop him. "Remember that nightmare that kept you up last night?"

Lissa nodded her head.

"You wouldn't tell me about it!" He tried to laugh but winced in pain instead. "I was just a little hurt that you wouldn't tell your bestest friend what was wrong."

Lissa clutched his hands.

"Do you wanna talk about it now?" Pause. "Speak now or forever hold your piece."

Lissa laid on the ground beside him, burying her face in his hair. She noticed the stream of tears that ran from his eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her as far as his position would allow in an attempt to hold her as he usually did, when she fell asleep against him after a fit of night terrors. Lissa clenched the fabric of his cape in her balled fists as she held down poorly concealed sobs.

"I'm fine, Henry. I'm fine. It was nothing, really." It was nothing compared to this. "Thanks to you." Lissa wanted to thank him for always comforting her, but she couldn't find the words to express herself properly. She could only repeatedly mutter her thanks into his neck.

They held each other there, Henry focusing on Lissa's cries and Lissa focusing on Henry's fading breaths. Neither dared to move or speak.

Until Henry broke the silence.

"Lissa, do you care if we trade places for once?" Lissa shot him a quizzical glance, but he didn't notice. His eyes were watching the grey storm clouds roll past. "I think I'm the one who's gonna need help falling asleep after this nightmare."

"Only if you promise not to…y'know." She stifled a cry. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

"If I-"

" _When_ you wake up, Henry. I promise, okay?" Lissa moved closer to him. "I promise."

Henry smiled, and for the first time, it was genuine.

* * *

first of all: why is there such a lack of Henry/Lissa? what's wrong with you people

second of all: I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense. I've written like five different things with similar ideas, but none of them have worked at all. so this is as good as it's gonna get, folks. Also note: I can't write characters acting in a remotely romantic way at all. whoops. and if they do, this is as close as I can get.

anyway, these two are my favorites, followed very closely by sumia/cordelia and panne/gaius and severa/all second gen girls. As for Henry and Lissa's supports, they're just so cute! but it's a shame they don't really discuss their nightmares or pasts, like Henry does with Olivia. that's my one regret.

as always, thanks for reading! (also posted on ao3 under the same name!)


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